


Rainy Black Denver

by Phase7



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Anal Sex, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Minor Injuries, Same plot as my WiLight fanfic? Maybe.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12612632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phase7/pseuds/Phase7





	Rainy Black Denver

Night rained onto Denver streets. Black puddles spread under World Marshall tower. Spineless corpses became sodden. Magnesium fires still burned. Four helicopters, three tanks, and a motorcycle laid in ruins. Heat and cold warred with static from dying bodies and machines, causing black clouds of interference to overcome Raiden's senses. He had to stay alert. Every raindrop was another nanosecond passed. 

Out from the shadows, his opponent jumped again. Raiden moved to parry, but just one raindrop of pause pushed him onto his back with the weight of another cyborg on top of him. The flurry of blows was sure to follow, like the first time Monsoon had him pinned so. Raiden couldn't feel his sword arm. He looked to the side: it was pinned by one sai right through the nerve cord. Monsoon shifted above him, sitting back on Raiden's hips while he closed both hands around the shaft and prongs of the free sai. His red helmet snapped up just so he could smile down maliciously. First there were teeth, and then a wet tongue sliding over dark grey lips. 

Raiden was disgusted by himself. It was basic animal stimulation hitting his body at the most inopportune time, probably stemming from Doktor turning off his inhibitors. The hips, the lips, the tongue: seeing them, even on his enemy, had gotten his cock to twitch and harden a bit. There was no way Monsoon hadn't noticed. 

Crouched right on top of Raiden's crotch, Monsoon of course noticed. His enemy, it seemed, was getting some enjoyment from the situation. Monsoon drove the second sai through Raiden's other arm, then moved his knee off of it. He could move his body freely without worrying about using his legs to hold Raiden down. Raiden winced and growled when his other arm was taken out. Monsoon sat back onto his crotch again, torso leaning back in triumph. His hands moved over Raiden's inner thighs. His smile grew impishly pensive. 

"Careful: you may be enjoying this, Jack. Does the ripper like getting ripped?" 

"Go to hell and screw yourself," Raiden growled back. 

"By the feel of it, I could do that right here." 

"It's just my body. It doesn't mean anything." 

"It doesn't have to mean anything to feel good," Monsoon said in as sultry a tone as he could muster. He purposefully ground his hips over Raiden's while leaning forward to bring their mouths close. Raiden bit him. Monsoon slotted his head back into place quick. "Bad boy." 

"You're worse." 

"Of course I am! But at least I don't lie to myself about who I am, and what I'm feeling." Proving his point, Monsoon's hips kept rubbing against the growing hardness below. For a set of robotic parts, they were cruelly soft and tantalising in their motion. 

"I hate you." Raiden closed his eyes to the sensations. They felt good, and that's what he hated more than Monsoon. 

"Go ahead. Why don't you put your penis in me anyway?" 

"Why would I want to do that?" 

"I already told you: it feels good." Monsoon chuckled. One hand left its place teasing at Raiden's balls to undo his own crotch cover. He'd been castrated completely, but it didn't matter at this stage. If anything it would give Raiden a better view of his ready hole when it bobbed into view between lazy thrusts. 

"What if I say no?" Raiden's voice stumbled over suspicion and interest at once. 

"Then I hand you over to Arm strong 20 minutes sooner." 

"Armstrong? The senator?" 

"The future president; ask your country's rigged polls. Who else has the money and clout to make Desperado happen? He owns me and he's going to own you too." 

"Not if I kill him first," Raiden decided. 

Monsoon leant over with forearms on the ripper's chest, staying out of biting range so he could gloat a little closer to his opponent's face. "Go ahead and try. Want to have sex first? It might be your last time, here in the rain, before a very long dry spell." 

Raiden could feel Monsoon's white hair tickling his nose. He blew the strands out of his face while craning his head up to look down his pinned body. He was definitely hard. Monsoon definitely had nothing between his legs any more. There was a very clear implication that this neutering was standard procedure. He could let his last time be with Rose a few months ago. Or he could get anal now and for the first and probably last time in his life. 

"Are you any good at it?" 

Monsoon laughed again while sitting up. The sound and motion jiggled their hips together delightfully. "You're ever combative. They say people barter before death. You're choosing to barter with a merchant giving his wares away for free." 

"That doesn't answer the damn question." 

"Yes, Raiden." Monsoon crossed his arms. "I am quite skilled at it. I took Sam's last time too. We could call him back out so you could ask him. He'd be inclined to watch afterwards." 

"F- no." Raiden's tone rolled his eyes for him. He finally pushed his hips upward. "Let's do it." 

Magic words undid the latches and webbing of Raiden's suit. His dick sprang free. Two raindrops of time fell on it before it got even wetter. Monsoon took half the shaft in his mouth, sucking greedily and messily. The annoyance was obviously preparing the cock for insertion, but wasn't doing a bad job at oral anyway. His mouth was wide and his teeth covered, with no choking sounds, and plenty of tongue. Motion and sucking joined in with the warm wetness until Raiden let himself groan. He was rock hard and dripping by the time he jettisoned the last of his moral restraint. 

"I think you're ready," Monsoon said. He wiped saliva and pre from his face with the back of his hand, then licked it back up. Body wobbling, pieces just a bit ajar from his own growing pleasure, he positioned his ass over Raiden's cock. "This is going to be so much better than jacking off, Jack." 

There was no time to be angry about that horrible, disgusting pun because it was true. The velvet warmth that enveloped his erection had a grip of honeyed iron. Monsoon was already moving up and down, and clenching, and pulling somehow, with his head thrown back and fingers shaking. Raiden wanted to hold those hips so he could drive into them with true control, but his arms remained dead. So instead, he dug his heels into demolished asphalt and thrust up. Monsoon cried out. Raiden growled too. The passage that gripped Raiden tightened. 

Soon Monsoon's hips began rocking and tumbling along with their sticky slide. Raiden kept ramming upwards until his cock hit rock bottom, or top. The pleasure punched his glans with every stroke. Anal was f-ing amazing. Monsoon himself wasn't that bad either. His stupidly tiny waist hitched alongside his keening breaths, and he was fumbling around between his breast plate magnets with one hand. His dark mouth fell open to moan hedonism. 

Raiden picked up the pace, dead set on retaining control of the coupling because he wasn't dead and he would always be defiant. No one could own him. He owned the ass-pussy above him, and he was giving it the banging of its life. Satisfaction shot to his groin and his brain when Monsoon finally looked down at his dour glare. They locked eyes. As pre-cum stained his inner walls, and his muscles throbbed in time with his heartbeat's magnetic pulse, Monsoon finally realised the truth that he was owned. Raiden owned him. This dick controlled his life. 

"Y-you're hitting my spot every time, Jack," Monsoon admitted. 

"Call me Raiden." An order. 

"Raiden!" Monsoon shouted when the steel-hardness of Raiden's dick hammered into his prostate once again. "I can't let Armstrong have you. Keep me, please!" 

"Why should I keep you? I have a wife." Raiden forced his voice to be as calm as it was commanding, though lust drove it deeper than any Snake impression did. 

"I'll do anything for your dick!" Monsoon could fee his orgasm coming. His pleasure spot was burning from all the friction and wet tingling charge, like a raincloud about to erupt in lightning. "I'll cook, and clean, and wash, and teach your son math and balance your accounts, and suck you off whenever and fight for you and..." 

"And I have a problem," Monsoon concluded aloud. He threw the refrigerator magnet he'd been rubbing on the back of his upper hip magnet across the room in disgust. The flimsy decoration flopped off of a weeb's DVD collection. Monsoon let go of the force on his hand. It fell back to the couch where the rest of him was disorganised and twitching. The clock said 4:15. No more time for stimulating the specific section on the slice of his body that miraculously matched up to his prostate's former location. He'd better start dinner. Sam would be back soon. 


End file.
